Sorcery Is Forbidden
by BlushippingZutara
Summary: In a land of myth and a time of magic, the destiny of a great kingdom rests in the hands of a young man, his name: Tristan. He is one half of the coin and the arrogant Prince Seto is the other. Without either, there will be no Albion. Please review. No yoai, just bromance.


Happy birthday Autobot.

Summary: No young man, no matter how great, con know his destiny. He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone he must live and learn. And so it must be for the young warlock arriving at the gates of Camelot. A boy, that will in time, father a legend. His name is Tristan.

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The morning sun was bright in the high skies as a boy made his way over one final hill. He wore a brown jacket over a green shirt with a lighter neckerchief around his neck and dark trousers and brown boots. The boy, named Tristan, also wore a pack on his back. His brown hair was mostly pushed up from his forehead, almost looking like a point, also providing some shade for his brown eyes. A grin appeared on his face as his eyes gazed upon the alabaster walls that circled tall, gleaming towers as they stood above the trees, claiming dominance in the land.

Tristan stood at the edge of a town of wooden and stone buildings, all under the jurisdiction of the castle that shadowed it. Children scurried from roadside to roadside, chasing balls, each other or household pets while mothers either yelled for their attention or for customers to see their wares. Fathers and husbands were all either unloading carts or beating away at red-hot metal that would soon become swords.

Trumpets began to sound from the courtyard where a horde of people were going. The traveling boy blended in with the crowd as slowly, everyone came to a stop. Tristan was not much taller than the rest of the crowd but could easily see over the other heads when he straightened his back. The sound of execution drums began to perforate the air as two armored guards dressed in red with a gold dragon on the front lead a haggard-looking man towards a high platform. Upon it was an executioner wielding an axe and a chopping block.

"Let this serve as a lesson to all!" came the loud orders from a high balcony. There stood a man dressed in the same crest as all the guards, with a red cloak over his shoulders and a crown on his thinning, greying hair. He was shaped like a barrel in body with thick arms and an equally thick head. He had a moustache under his nose and from time to time, he'd shift it as if it annoyed him. His hard golden eyes were fixated on the man as he was lead onto the platform. "This man, Thomas James Collins, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic. And pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I - Gozaburo Kaiba - have declared that such practices are banned. I pride myself as a fair and just king but for the crime of sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass."

Tristan snapped back to the man, Thomas, as he was shoved to his knees and his head onto the chopping block. Tristan could only watch in horror as the axe raised in sync with Gozaburo's hand. The blade, glinting wickedly in the morning light, hovered in its place for what seemed like hours. Perhaps it was. Tristan's jaw clenched. He knew what this was. Truly guilty or not, Gozaburo was using this opportunity to torment the man, showing how little the common life meant to him and how it was naught more than something to be played with.

Finally, Gozaburo let his hand fall with a resounding slap on the marble of the balcony railing. The axe did the same and the entire crowd became a mix of gasps, shrieks and fainting women as everyone turned away from the carnage.

"When I came to this land, this kingdom was mired in chaos." Gozaburo stood with a smile on his face. Tristan knew it was neither kindness nor a fatherly desire to protect his people, but the simple cold of a steel-loving madman. "But with the people's help, magic was driven from the land. SO I declare a festival. To celebrate twenty years since the Great Dragon was captured and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery." He paused for a moment to let what he'd said settle on the people. "Let the celebrations begin!" he ordered. Immediately people began to scurry, either to pick up their wives or sisters or just to leave the courtyard.

A scream of pure, heart-wrenching agony stopped everyone in their tracks, even the king. The crowd parted as an old woman dressed in tattered brown clothes knelt beside the fallen corpse on the platform, her hands bloodied and tears streaming down her wrinkled face, causing the grey hairs to stick. She turned to face the king as she gripped the man's clothing.

"There is only one evil in this land and it is not magic!" she screamed, tears choking her words. "It is you!" Gozaburo stared down his nose at the woman. "You took my son! And I promise you, before these celebrations are over you will share my tears! An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth..." She paused as her tears came faster and choked her again. "A SON FOR A SON!" she finally screamed, gripping her son's clothes so tightly they tore in her hands.

"Seize her!" Gozaburo ordered. The woman grasped a piece of jewelry around her neck and whispered some words in her choked, teary state. Instantly a wind as white as snow appeared around her, lifting her away from the corpse of her son and into the air.

As if that further encouraged the people, they all made a desperate scramble to leave the courtyard. Tristan crossed the cobblestone and walked up to two guards.

"I need to find Soloman, the court physician," he explained. One guard grunted and pointed down the corridor they were guarding. Tristan nodded his thanks before passing by them. He quickly made his way up the steps until he came to a wooden door on his left side. He knocked tentatively before poking his head in. "Hello?"

Tristan poked his head into the room and blinked. If the vials, chemistry sets, innumerable books and herbs weren't sure signs of this being the court physician's room, then nothing was. "Soloman?" Tristan looked around a little bit before his eyes came to rest on a boy at the top of a staircase made of bookshelves leading up to the second floor of the room. The boy had a wild mane of black hair with red and gold highlights and bangs. Tristan cleared his throat, catching the boy's attention as he leaned against the rail to see the occupant.

Almost instantly the rail broke, sending the boy over the edge with a yell.

Tristan felt a pull in his stomach and his eyes turned from brown to gold, just as time around the boy seemed to come to a standstill.

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BZ: A little less than I wanted to get done but hey, there's always more to come. Can't overwhelm myself. Man, I was overwhelmed, my sister is underwhelmed, why isn't anyone ever just whelmed? Please review.


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